The Greatest Carnival On Earth
by Aini NuFire
Summary: TFW investigates a case at a carnival. Let's just say Sam has good reason to fear the clowns.


**A/N: Let's take a break from those angsty song fics and have something on the humorous side. For VegasGranny, who'd asked for the boys going to a carnival. I added an actual case fic to the fluff stuff you wanted. Plot is from an episode of _The Librarians_. I own neither that nor _Supernatural_. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading! Set in season 12.**

* * *

"The Greatest Carnival On Earth"

Dean swept his gaze around the carnival, the raucous clamor of dings and bells, whistles and horns grating his eardrums. The grinding of gears and din of people milling about added to the noise of overstimulation coupled with flashing lights and mirrors. He saw Sam shifting nervously, and followed his brother's gaze to where a clown was handing out balloons to kids. Dean smirked.

"Breathe, Sammy."

Sam shot him a withering look. "Let's just get on with this."

Cas stood next to them, canting his head in contemplation at the clown. "While I admit their visage is somewhat grotesque, they seem to provide entertainment. So what is your specific aversion to clowns, Sam?"

"They're just…creepy."

"And it's not an aversion," Dean added. "It's a straight-up irrational phobia."

"It's not irrational," Sam snapped. "I've almost been killed by a clown before."

"That wasn't a real one."

"Whatever." Sam drew his shoulders back and stormed off.

Dean grinned as he and Cas followed. They weren't here for fun but to investigate a case. People had been going missing or dropping like flies at this carnival. Granted, heart attacks and exhaustion weren't unnatural occurrences, but five in the past two weeks was a lot, and some of those people had died. It seemed worth looking into.

They headed over to one of the booths where a short, squat man dressed as a magician was standing. Based on his outfit and the posters out front, he was the man behind this operation.

"Excuse me," Dean called, reaching for his fake FBI credentials and flashing the badge. "Agents Stillwater, Hightower, and Raines, FBI. Mr. …?"

"R. J. Rimpleskien," the man replied, offering a white gloved hand for them to shake. "Welcome to the greatest carnival on earth."

"Yeah, sure," Dean brushed off. "Your carnival's got quite the record for hazardous health incidents."

The magician straightened in affront. "I assure you this place adheres to the highest standard in the business."

"That why three of your employees were recently hospitalized for dehydration and exhaustion?" Sam said.

Rimpleskien stepped forward, looking quite fierce despite his small stature next to Sam. "There's so much excitement around the carnival. Sometimes people overdo it," he said tightly.

"It sounds more like you're overworking your employees," Cas put in.

"Everyone here is dedicated to the show," he snapped, then drew back. "None more so than myself. So if you'll excuse me, I have a show to do."

Rimpleskien turned sharply and marched off, his black cape billowing behind him.

"Okay, that guy's cracked one too many melons," Dean remarked.

Cas quirked a confused brow at him. "If you're referring to the brain as a melon, he only has one."

Dean rolled his eyes. "We should split up, take a look around."

"What are we looking for exactly?" Cas asked. "While I agree the disappearances and deaths are unusual, they're not exactly supernatural either."

"Yeah, well, I don't like that guy." Dean waved impatiently at Cas and Sam. "It can't hurt."

Sam's expression was tight as shifty eyes darted around the carnival.

"Oh, and, Sam, if you run into any clowns, just scream like a girl."

That got him to spin around with a scathing glower. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

Cas rolled his eyes heavenward before striding away without comment.

Dean headed off the opposite direction. The aromas of kettle corn freshly popped, cotton candy whisked up like clouds, and candied apples made his mouth water, but he refrained from buying any. He did, however, pause at a shooting game. Glancing up and down the aisle and noting that everything seemed normal, he stepped forward and paid to play.

It was one of those water guns that was supposed to hit a target and make the tiny cardboard, cowboy horse rise to the top. Dean was an expert and managed to keep a steady stream on the narrow dot, but his little figurine barely made it three quarters of the way.

He tossed the water gun down. "Fixin' games, huh? I should have you arrested," he threatened the attendant.

The guy inside the booth didn't respond to that, didn't give one inkling of facial expression. He just replied in a drone, "Welcome to the greatest carnival on earth."

Dean frowned but then shook his head in irritation and kept moving. Then a dart game caught his eye and that would be easier to cheat the cheater, so he veered toward it and forked over the cash for a chance to play. He took a moment to finger the three darts he'd been given, noting that the weight distribution was blatantly off. He smirked; he could adjust for that.

Angling his toss a little higher than normal, he let the weight of the dart carry itself down in an arc to pop the balloon from above rather than try to throw directly at it. He did the same with the other two, popping each of his targets.

"Hah," he beamed as the attendant handed over a weird squishy toy without reaction. Dean eyed it dubiously, then passed it off to a kid walking by. He meandered through the carnival some more before spotting a door that said "No Admittance." If something was going on here, it wouldn't be out in the open.

Dean moseyed his way toward it, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking before he cranked the handle and slipped inside. It was dark and his eyes were struggling to adjust. He heard a shuffle, then a scuff. Something was moving around in there.

He reached for his flashlight, but before he could get it, something slammed into the side of his head and darkness turned to oblivion.

* * *

Sam wove through the crowds, sweeping his gaze over most of their heads as he went. He wasn't really seeing anything suspicious. But he couldn't help feeling on edge, and maybe that was just because of the clowns. Sam wouldn't let his phobia keep him from doing his job, but it did leave him jumpy and perhaps too hyperaware. Every painted face or curly colored hair had him whipping around to home in on the offensive clown. It made it difficult for him to focus on looking for any other clues when he kept getting distracted.

A commotion startled him, and he jerked his attention to where a crowd of people was gathering. Sam elbowed his way through and found a ticket salesperson collapsed on the ground, looking pale with chapped lips and lolling her head from side to side. Sam recognized her as one of the missing people but…what was she doing wearing a carnival uniform?

Sam crouched down next to her and squeezed her shoulder. "Easy, you're gonna be all right." He could hear someone already on the phone with 911.

"Welcome to the greatest carnival on earth," she mumbled. "Welcome to the greatest carnival on earth."

Sam drew his hand back, stunned. The weird factor was definitely going up. Since someone had already called for help, Sam got up and hurried away from the scene, intent on finding Dean and Cas.

As he pushed his way out of the growing throng, he spotted a clown standing at the end of the aisle, staring right at him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and Sam immediately turned and headed down another aisle. But suddenly another clown stepped out into his path, posture tense and face paint contorted into a macabre leer.

Sam's heart pounded wildly, and he darted behind some booths and around to the back of the main attractions. He pulled up short as two more clowns stepped out. Spinning around, he found the other two behind him. Sam fumbled for his gun, not entirely sure whether he could actually shoot them…but it didn't matter. The clowns converged on him, hands grabbing at his shoulders and limbs. Sam kicked and punched and bucked but he was overwhelmed, and then suddenly he felt nothing.

* * *

Castiel picked his way through the carnival, still not sure what he was supposed to be on the lookout for. Frankly, everything here was strange, from the costumed clowns to the loud and obnoxious games and booths advertising all manner of gimmicky type things like palm reading and House of Mystery. He'd also gotten annoyed at the amount of screams rending the air. The first one had made Castiel stiffen and almost draw his angel blade. But it had been a child running from a clown. Sam would sympathize.

Then there'd been a shriek on a spinning ride, and another that had a mechanical note to it and Castiel realized it'd come from the House of Mystery. He wasn't getting anywhere this way.

He angled his head up to take in the Ferris wheel. Perhaps a bird's eye view might provide some clues.

Castiel made his way over and stood in line for several minutes. When the boy ahead of him reached the loading platform, the attendant shook his head.

"Sorry, kid, you're not tall enough to ride alone."

The boy's face pinched with distress, and before Castiel knew what he was doing, he'd stepped forward. "I'll ride with him."

The kid glanced at him warily but climbed in. Castiel slid in next to him and the attendant latched them in. Then the ride whirred and they were sweeping backwards and rising. Castiel roved his gaze across the carnival grounds, getting a look at the aisles filled with guests and also the out of bounds areas behind the booths and tents.

The kid swung his legs back and forth forcefully, rocking the seat.

"Stop that," Castiel said.

"Why?" the boy challenged. "Afraid you'll fall?"

"Been there, done that," he muttered, regretting his taking pity on the child. "Where are your parents?"

The kid grew quiet, gaze ducked toward his lap. "I'm looking for my dad," he admitted quietly.

"You got separated?"

He nodded. "Two nights ago. We came here to have fun, and then he disappeared."

Castiel gaped at the boy in disbelief. "You've been here the whole time?"

The kid shrugged. "Got nowhere else to go."

Castiel shook his head. "Why didn't you call the police?"

"I'm not letting them take me away," he protested vehemently. "My dad didn't dump me here and I'm not leaving without him."

Castiel didn't know what to say. He wondered if the father's disappearance was linked to the others. Though he hadn't found any evidence of foul play, he definitely felt something in the air, an undercurrent of sinister intent. He returned his focus to the ground below. This high up, he could see ripples of magical energy around the carnival. Something was at work here.

His gaze snapped to the left as he spotted Sam being dragged away by some clowns and Castiel immediately lurched in his seat. But he couldn't go anywhere.

"Now who's rocking too much?" the kid yelped, gripping the handle bar tightly.

Castiel gritted his teeth as Sam disappeared into a tent. He scanned the ground for Dean but didn't spot him. Agitation and vexation made him shift in his seat impatiently until the cart wound its way back to the bottom and he was finally allowed to get off.

Spurring from his seat like a bandit, Castiel pushed through the milling people and hurried to where he'd last seen Sam. There was no sign of him or the clowns, and Castiel charged into the tent. He was met with a flash of light that whited out his senses.

* * *

It felt like a mere second between being blinded and blinking his vision back to normal, and yet Castiel found himself standing inside a display behind a window. He was shirtless, and a heavy weight on his shoulders and back had him craning his neck around, only to freeze and stare dumbfounded at the huge white wings sprouting from his back. He twisted back and forth, trying to get a better look, and nearly tripped as the tips of the primaries scraped against the walls of his confines. He angled himself to the side and managed to catch a vague reflection in the glass window. The appendages were definitely fused under his skin to his scapulas, and yet these wings were not his. They were a crude facsimile somehow grafted onto his vessel.

But _why_?

He straightened and faced forward, only to stiffen once again at two more display windows across the aisle, both occupied. With Sam and Dean.

Sam was also shirtless and wearing poofy pants and a turban while he sat crosslegged on the floor and played a flute. A lilting tune floated out and a snake rose up from the basket at Sam's feet, swaying in time to the music. Sam had a glazed look on his face.

As did Dean, who was…in much worse condition. Castiel's stomach churned at the sight of two heads sprouting from the Winchester's neck. Both of which were intoning flatly, "Welcome to the greatest carnival on earth."

Castiel clenched his fists. He could feel the tendrils of the spell that'd been cast on him, but thankfully his grace was keeping the mind-numbing portion of it at bay. He wasn't sure what to do with the…additions.

He'd address it later though. Right now, he had to get Sam and Dean out of here. He kicked down the plastic display window with ease and hopped out of his cage, stumbling as the wings behind him teetered and upset his balance. That was going to prove troublesome.

He staggered over to the other windows and smashed first one, then the other. Neither Sam nor Dean reacted. Castiel stepped into Sam's alcove first and reached out two fingers to his forehead, pushing angelic healing into him in the hopes of dispelling the curse.

Sam jolted and jerked away, blinking furiously. "C-Cas?"

"Are you all right?"

"I th-think so. What happened?" Sam looked down at himself, his eyes widening and cheeks flushing in mortification.

"We were put under some kind of spell," Castiel explained. "Unfortunately, I can't break it completely."

Sam whipped his gaze back up, mouth dropping open as he took in the wings. "Are those…?"

"Someone's sick sense of humor," he replied sourly. "Seems I can break the mental hold of the curse, but not restore us to ourselves."

Which did not bode well for Dean.

Castiel swallowed and turned to move over into the next display where Dean was still repeating that stoned out mantra.

Sam followed, choking on a gasp. "Oh my god."

Castiel touched the older Winchester's forehead—well, one of them—and waited as Dean blinked blearily for a moment.

"Cas- what?" He tried to stand and started to pitch sideways with the weight of the extra head. Dean jerked his gaze to the side. "What the hell!"

The second head winked back. "Hiya, sweetheart."

"Cas!"

Castiel grabbed his shoulder to keep him steady. "I'm sorry, I can't undo it. There's a lot of magic running this place."

Dean shot him a harried look, faltering for a moment at Castiel's own appearance. "Son-of-a-bitch," he uttered.

His second head let out a low whistle. "Nice jammies, Sam."

Dean jabbed a finger at himself. "You, shut up."

"We need to get out of here," Castiel said.

"No, we need to find the bastard behind this and gank his ass."

"I don't know," Sam hedged. "They're obviously powerful. Maybe we should regroup…"

"And how do you plan for us to walk out of here with two heads and a set of wings?" Dean barked.

"Hey, Cas," Dean Two spoke up with a smirk. "How about you fly us outta here?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes on the second head, which clearly had a touch of Dean but with a more snarky attitude. "They're not real wings."

"Okay," Sam snapped. "Let's at least get out of _here_ before this exhibit opens for business."

Both of Dean's heads gave a sharp nod at that, and they all hurried to the end of the tent and out a back door. Unfortunately, the clown goon squad was waiting for them.

Castiel immediately took up a defensive stance, his fingers twitching with the reflex to brandish his blade. But it was in his trench coat—and he had no idea where that had gotten to.

The clowns charged and Castiel surged forward to meet two of them, resorting to punches without his angel blade. Behind him came the thwacks and thuds of Sam and Dean engaging the clowns on the other side.

Castiel naturally moved with his innate fighting style, but it was hampered by the corporeal wings at his back. Instead of gracefully spinning from one opponent to the next, he stumbled and tilted under the extra weight pulling him in separate directions.

Dean was thrown to the ground with a clown wrapping meaty hands around his throat. He clawed at the mask, trying to rip it off, but apparently it wasn't a mask at all. Dean grunted as the misshapen face leaned closer, mouth grinning manically.

Castiel pivoted away from the clown he was battling and grabbed the one straddling Dean by the back of its coat, hauling it up and swinging it around into the other clown. They both went crashing to the ground.

"Enough!"

Castiel whirled toward where the magician had arrived. Rimpleskien's face puffed red with fury and he jabbed his magic wand at them.

"I will not let you ruin this show!"

Magic prickled on the air, and Castiel lunged at the magician before he could try putting them back under his spell. But hands snatched at his wings and wrenched them back. Castiel cried out at the unexpected pain lancing through his shoulder blades as he was yanked to the ground. He struggled to get up, but two of the clowns planted giant shoes on the wing bones and pinned him there.

Rimpleskien stalked forward and thrust the butt of his wand into Castiel's chest. Guttural words started spilling from his lips, and Castiel stiffened as magic fizzled over him.

"I didn't realize I had a real life angel in my menagerie," the magician paused to comment. "I should've used a different spell."

He resumed his litany, and Castiel could feel the magic burrowing down into his grace, his limbs going slack and his lucidity waning, like drifting off to sleep in a rocking boat.

Dean leaped into view and punched Rimpleskien in the jaw so hard the magician's head snapped to the side. Then Sam was there yanking the magic wand out of his hands. Raising it above his head, he brought it down over his knee, snapping it in two.

Rimpleskien screamed as a concussive whomp of power exploded outward.

Castiel blinked, the force holding him down released, and lifted his head. He was back in his suit and trench coat, the wings gone. Sam and Dean, likewise, had been restored to their normal selves. All the clowns had collapsed on the ground like marionettes whose strings had been cut.

The magician let out an enraged bellow and threw himself at Sam and the broken wand, but Dean pulled out his angel blade and stepped in with a quick thrust between the ribs. Rimpleskien gasped sharply, eyes blowing wide before the light in them winked out. Dean let the body drop to the ground.

"That's for giving me two heads."

Castiel pushed himself to his feet and looked around. He could see the slight rise and fall of the clowns' chests where they lay and went over to kneel down next to one. The face looked flabby, and when he reached out, he was able to pull off the mask, revealing an unconscious man inside.

"They must have been under a spell too."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I wonder how many there were."

Castiel glanced over his shoulder toward where the sounds of fun and chaos still echoed. "Guess we'll find out."

* * *

They called the authorities and first responders to come tend to all the people who suddenly found themselves walking around a carnival with no idea how they'd gotten there or what they were doing. Many of them had been working for days on end and needed medical attention.

Sam and Dean were trying to stay out of the thick of things, but Castiel had decided to search out that boy's dad, who had been enslaved as a mindless clown guard. The reunion between them brought a smile to Castiel's face, and he returned to the Winchesters feeling a little less tired from the whole ordeal.

They finally turned to head back to the car.

"I really hate carnivals," Sam muttered, casting guarded looks at the clown costumes lying abandoned on the ground.

"I really hate witches," Dean groused.

Castiel sighed in relief when the Impala came into view. "I'd just really like to go home."


End file.
